176 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 



A month or more elapsed, and Mike had progressed 

 several hundred miles down the Mississippi ; his jonrney 

 had been remarkably free from incident ; morning, noon, 

 and night, presented the same banks, the same muddy 

 water, and he sighed to see some broken land, some high 

 hills, and he railed and swore, that he should have been 

 such a fool as to desert his favorite Ohio for a river that 

 produced nothing but alligators ; and was never, at best, 

 half finished. 



Occasionally, the plentifulness of game put him in 

 spirits, but it did not last long ; he wanted more lasting 

 excitement, and declared himself as perfectly miserable 

 and helpless, as a wild-cat without teeth or claws. 



In the vicinity of Natchez rise a few abrupt hills, 

 which tower above the surrounding lowlands of the Mis- 

 sissippi like monuments ; they are not high, but from 

 their loneliness and rarity, they create sensations of 

 pleasure and awe. 



Under the shadow of one of these bluffs, Mike and 

 his associates made the customary preparations for pass- 

 ing the night. Mike's enthusiasm knew no bounds at 

 the sight of land again ; he said it was as pleasant as 

 " cold water to a fresh wound ;" and, as his spirits rose, 

 he went on making the region round about, according to 

 his notions, an agreeable residence. 



" The Choctaws live in these diggins," said Mike, 

 " and a cursed time they must have of it. Now if I 

 lived in these parts I'd declare war on 'em just to have 



